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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126441">dances away from my tainted grace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stairre/pseuds/Stairre'>Stairre</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Brainwashing, Captivity, Don't copy to another site, Morally Ambiguous Character, Other, Past Torture, Trying to brainwash someone into being a better person, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:46:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stairre/pseuds/Stairre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dominus Ambus - now The Pet - sets his sights towards going home. And he wants Kaon to come with him, whether Kaon's willing to defect or not.</p><p>---</p><p>In which Dominus has a failsafe against domestication, Kaon gets kidnapped, and holding someone prisoner and trying to force them to be a better person is more than a bit morally grey, but Dominus has done worse things, let's be honest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dominus Ambus &amp; Kaon, Dominus Ambus/Kaon, Kaon/The Pet, The Pet &amp; Kaon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dances away from my tainted grace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong><br/>dances away from my tainted grace<br/></strong>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>–<br/><br/><br/></p><p>The Pet’s vocaliser has long since been mutilated; words do not form there, and only the yips and shrieks of its turbo-fox mode can be sounded. In all, it is one of the lesser crimes against Dominus’ person. <br/><br/></p><p>So he croons into Kaon’s touch and finds strange comfort there, unburdened by words. They do not think he is capable of higher thought any longer – and, indeed, it is hard in this mode nowadays – and so there is nothing for them to see but the innocence of an animal seeking its master’s attention.<br/><br/></p><p>“What is it, Pet?” Kaon asks, turning away from his screen. He’s still plugged in, of course, but the processes scrolling past pause for a moment. His empty sockets meet Dominus’, a far cry from the golden optics that used to sit there.<br/><br/></p><p>Dominus yips, tugs Kaon’s hand gently with his teeth, and half-turns, looking back over his shoulder. <em>Follow me.<br/><br/></em></p><p>“What’s it found now?” Tesarus grunts from another console. “Ain’t nothing here but fragging rocks.”<br/><br/></p><p>They’re on a small moon, and Tesarus’ words are true: there is little here in regards to resources, not even veins of raw metallic ore in the ground for mining. Traces, perhaps, but nothing usable. <br/><br/></p><p>Kaon ignores Tesarus’ words and rises from his chair, unlinking himself from the monitor, the connection cord winding back into his wrist as a panel locks into place over it. “Show me,” he says, trusting. Always trusting.<br/><br/></p><p>Dominus leads Kaon out, sticking close by his side as he draws him out of sight of the<em> Peaceful Tyranny</em>. His turbo-fox hearing can discern the hums of Kaon’s tesla coils, occasionally made for his echolocation, and the buzz of his sensors sweeping the area, but the terrain is still more than treacherous for a blind mech. He nudges Kaon about some, around obstacles, the way he always does.<br/><br/></p><p>They wander quite a ways from the still form of the ship. Kaon doesn’t suspect a thing. The Pet yips by the entrance of a crevice, scratching its claws against the rock, and listens to the low echo of its whirring gears. Kaon steps in, setting his sensors up to their full range.<br/><br/></p><p>“… What’s this doing here?” Kaon frowns down at the piece of equipment lying prone in the cavern The Pet has drawn him into. His scanners ping back that it’s a small signal jammer, for use when the D.J.D. ambush their prey and Kaon is needed away from his communications equipment. “This is from our armoury.” <br/><br/></p><p>Behind Kaon, the whirring sounds of a transformation sequence come from The Pet’s last known location. <br/><br/></p><p>“Hello, Kaon,” says Vos. The old Vos, the Vos that had been Kaon’s companion for millions of years. The voice is unmistakeable.<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon doesn’t have time to do anything more than whip around, his tesla coils crackling with electricity, before blankness descends upon him, and stasis-lock initiates. <br/><br/></p><p>Dominus lowers the stun-blaster he also stole from the armoury, staring down for a moment at Kaon’s prone form. Then, with all the efficiency millions of years of war gives special operations agents, he sets about making the scene he needs.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>–<br/><br/><br/></p><p>Kaon awakens with all of his weapons and communications systems disabled. There’s a pounding ache in his processor, and the war’s gone on long enough that he recognises the after-effects of a stunning shot lancing through his circuitry. <br/><br/></p><p>He has no optics to online, of course, and his sensors and scanners have had their sensitivity turned down to the lowest level. He’s not completely without perception, but it’s the closest he’s been to it in a long time. It’s unnerving.<br/><br/></p><p>He sits up. By the feel of it, and what his muted sensors can tell him, he’s on a bare metal berth, alone. Ahead of him, he can hear the light humming of an energy field. A cell, then.<br/><br/></p><p>He loads up his last memory file.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>
  <em>[… <br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* A piece of D.J.D. equipment.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Far from its home in the armoury.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Apparently abandoned in a narrow cave.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* On some utterly forgettable moon.<br/> </em>
</p><p>
  <em>* The Pet bringing you to it. <br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* The Pet transforming.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* “Hello, Kaon.”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>*  Audio input cross-referenced to memory banks.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Match found: <strike>Vos.</strike>  <strike>The Pet.</strike> --- <strong>Vos. <br/><br/></strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Weapons systems brought online from standby mode.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Electrical generation coils charged.<br/><br/></em>
  <br/>
  <em>* Then – <br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Nothing. <br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>…] <br/><br/><br/></em>
</p><p>Kaon sits there for a moment, processing. The Pet – Vos – fragging <em>Autobot spy</em> – it’s not – it doesn’t make<em> sense.</em> How did it – did <em>he</em> – overcome the domestication process? And – why isn’t Kaon dead? If someone had done to Kaon what the D.J.D. had done to their traitor – <br/><br/></p><p>Well. Kaon wouldn’t have hesitated. Except – maybe if… <br/><br/></p><p>“Kaon,” comes that voice again. He is no longer alone. <br/><br/></p><p>“Autobot,” Kaon replies, static lacing through his vocaliser as it reboots from the after-effects of the stun blast. He refuses to acknowledge the spy as <em>Vos</em>, and would refuse to call him his name, even if he did know it. Then – “How?”<br/><br/></p><p>The Autobot pauses a moment, and then says, “You know how the Council used to be,” ruefully. “Mechanimal alt modes were – primitive. Disposable. They were the first pioneers of the domestication process, and I am not ashamed to admit that I feared such a fate, and set about creating a fail-safe to ease my mind. As it happens, it came in useful.”<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon cringes a little, though hopefully not visibly. The comparison to the Functionist Council hurts. The Decepticons were meant to be the antithesis of functionalism. “We’re nothing like them!” he snarls. “You – you betrayed us; I begged for your life!”<br/><br/></p><p><em>You betrayed <strong>me</strong>.</em> <br/><br/></p><p>The Autobot spy steps closer, Kaon can hear him. He can also hear the low rumbling of engines, and the slight vibration all around him. A ship, travelling through space, already probably very far away from the moon where the <em>Peaceful Tyranny</em> and the rest of the D.J.D. are. <br/><br/></p><p>“I wanted better for you,” the spy says. Kaon bares his teeth. “Kaon – Amp.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Don’t call me that,” Kaon snaps. “That is not my name!”<br/><br/></p><p>“It was,” says the Autobot. “Not for long, but it was.”<br/><br/></p><p>“I was made to be Kaon,” Kaon replies, truthfully. Then, bitterly, pain underlying the words, “I was made for <em>you.”<br/><br/></em></p><p>“I did wrong by you,” the spy says, “and I – regret. You were made to be a monster, Amp. And I guided your hand every step of the way, in despair. I couldn’t compromise myself, not even for an M.T.O. new-spark. But, Amp, how I <em>wanted to.”<br/><br/></em></p><p>“Tarn will come,” Kaon says, warningly. He can’t bear to think too hard on the spy’s words. Can’t bear to have those memory files crowd into his conscious processing. “You know he will. You can’t hold me forever.”<br/><br/></p><p>“He will not,” the Autobot says. “As far as he’s concerned, we’re both dead. He will not be your saviour – I will be.”<br/><br/><br/></p><p>–<br/><br/><br/></p><p>The traitor doesn’t withhold energon from Kaon, though he should. Standard Decepticon procedure for prisoners is to keep their fuel tanks low, to discourage any escape attempts, and from what Kaon has heard, the Autobots have a similar policy.<br/> </p><p>Vos – the <em>Autobot spy</em>, damn it – gives Kaon standard rations for a long space trip. His tanks aren’t full, but he doesn’t dip below 40% in between his receivings of a cube from the wall panel on a consistent schedule.<br/> </p><p>The Autobot comes down to talk to him every day. Kaon mostly lays on his side, facing the unseen wall, and doesn’t speak. Tries to ignore him.<br/><br/></p><p>Tries to forget him, how he used to be. But how can he when Vos’ voice speaks to him in the waking world, and haunts his dreams in the recharging one? Because – despite his best efforts – Kaon <em>does</em> dream. His defragging processor keeps throwing up old memory files unwanted, demanding his attention. It’s not like how organics dream, but it’s more than Kaon wants. <br/><br/></p><p>His chronometer still works. It tells him that nineteen days have passed since he first awoke in this cell he has not left. <br/><br/></p><p>Tarn – if he was coming – should have been here long ago.<br/><br/></p><p>He hasn’t yet – Kaon is alone. Well. Not alone by himself. Alone with the traitor.<br/><br/></p><p>The wounds are still fresh, really. The traitor had been Vos for over two million years, only a few thousand longer than Kaon had been Kaon. His replacement has been there for the tiniest fraction of that – only two years. Two million years of camaraderie undone in an instant. It aches, still.<br/><br/></p><p>“Hello, again,” comes the voice of the traitor. It seems like he has all the patience in the universe while Kaon feels like crawling up the walls. It’s psychological, he knows. He’s been on the other side of this often enough. Unfortunately, knowing <em>how</em> it works doesn’t stop it from <em>working</em>. <br/><br/></p><p>Kaon determinately keeps still and silent. He knows that his reaction must be laughable – he’s laughed at others who acted like this, before. In the Afterspark, they are surely taking their turn to laugh at him, now.<br/><br/></p><p>“Do you remember Tareyu IV?” the traitor asks, conversationally. He’s been doing this for days: reminiscing on old missions they had undertaken together, inviting Kaon to comment but never pushing. It’s a technique used to create a rapport, and – it’s working.<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon hates it, but it’s working. Two million years of history stretch between them. Surely, a measly two years couldn’t create an unbridgeable gap? The yawning divide of betrayal and torture and pain gapes open at their feet, and Kaon knows that, in some respects, they’re both to blame.<br/><br/></p><p>“We went for that thief, remember? The one who was skimming off the top of the mining station’s energon reactor, and selling it to Neutrals?” the traitor relays. Kaon does remember. It was one of the first missions he’d undertaken, still young and clinging to Vos’ beautifully violent wake, in awe of his viciousness and devotion to the cause.<br/><br/></p><p>A lie, all a lie. Had nothing that they built between them ever been real?<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon’s own hands had helped hold Vos down. He hadn’t been part of the prying away of the disguise, or the lobotomy, or the mutilation, but – he’d watched. And said nothing. <br/><br/></p><p>He’d already begged for Vos’ life, and Tarn’s own lingering attachment to a subordinate of two million years – or perhaps a desire for a crueller form of justice, to match the betrayal of one of their own – had allowed Vos to live. Not as he was before, but he lived.<br/><br/></p><p>The Pet had been Kaon’s. Everyone knew that. Because Vos had been Kaon’s. Except he never had, had he? <br/><br/></p><p>“Shut up, traitor,” Kaon interrupts the story, without thinking, tired and angry. He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. Not what he said, but that he said anything at all.<br/><br/></p><p>“Ah,” hums the traitor, the same way Vos hummed whenever he found something interesting, or was thinking alone and reacting quietly to his own thoughts. Kaon had once found it endearing. “There you are.”<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon uncurls, twisting to face the spy. He’s started this now, he might as well go on. “What are you planning?” he asks. He wants to know. There’s been no indication of physical torture – <em>yet</em> – though he knows the spy is an expert. He cannot help but wonder how well he’ll hold up to such pains; he’s no coward, but the spy is a master, and he’s used to being the <em>torturer</em>, not the <em>victim.<br/><br/></em></p><p>“I,” says Vos, and he really is every inch <em>Vos,</em> Vos as he’s about to start cracking open one of the List, “am going to <em>save you.”<br/><br/></em></p><p>“From <em>what?”</em> Kaon bites out. <br/><br/></p><p>“Tarn,” says Vos, waving a hand around and causing disturbance in the air currents. They’re no longer hooked, but the gesture is familiar. “Megatron. Yourself. I am going home, back to the Autobots, and <em>you</em> are coming with me.”<br/><br/></p><p>“I am not an Autobot!” Kaon snarls. “And I never will be!”<br/><br/></p><p>“We’ll see,” says Vos. <br/><br/><br/></p><p>–<br/><br/><br/></p><p>Vos is cruel in his kindness. Even when Kaon spits out the most hurtful things he can think of – and he knows a lot about making Vos hurt, they knew each other so well, or at least Kaon had thought they did – Vos never raises his hand in anger.<br/><br/></p><p>Oh, he’s certainly stiffened, bitten back harsh words, retreated from the cell area. Kaon knows that his verbal hits<em> land.</em> But he doesn’t hurt Kaon, even when he could. Even when, under unwritten Decepticon rules, he<em> should. <br/><br/></em></p><p>It’s – worrying. Not that Kaon worries about the<em> traitor,</em> but rather what his actions – or, in this case non-actions – mean. Vos – damn it all, he can’t help but think of the betrayer as that – has never been hesitant to turn to violence. His hands had been <em>hooks</em> – his touch designed to do nothing <em>but</em> hurt. <br/><br/></p><p>(They’d never suspected that Vos had been a traitor. He’d been <em>one of them</em>. Violent and vicious and – apparently – loyal, through to the core. Even when other Decepticons had cringed before them, Vos had never given any indication of wavering.<br/><br/></p><p>An Autobot. A fragging <em>Autobot</em>. More alike to them than their brethren. Maybe that’s what hurt the others the most.<br/><br/></p><p>The D.J.D. had always been insular. Feared and revered in equal measure. To have a spy so deeply nestled in the heart of their operation, his act so believable, his words so slippery that no net caught them… <br/><br/></p><p>Two million years is a long time, even for Cybertronians. It had been <em>personal.)<br/><br/></em></p><p>Vos no longer has hooks on his hands and feet. His true form is definitely spiky, but not in a calculated, intentional way, designed to cause pain. Kaon tells himself very firmly that he doesn’t want to place his hands on it, like he never had the chance to before Vos was confined to his turbo-fox alt mode.<br/> </p><p>He tells himself that he doesn’t want to know this mech’s true face. <br/><br/></p><p>(Kaon might be lying to himself.)<br/><br/></p><p>“You made a good pet, I’ll grant you that,” he tells Vos one day, nastily, the subject between them the old Senate and the shadowy Functionist Council tugging their strings. “Maybe they <em>were</em> on to something; don’t think you’d have passed the Ambus Test, huh?”<br/><br/></p><p>It’s a lie, and both of them know it. Kaon – like any <em>good</em> Decepticon – despises functionalism in any and all forms. But he’s also getting desperate, and both of them know that as well. Kaon has no control of the situation, and is grasping for anything to hurt Vos with, however poisonous the words. <br/><br/></p><p>Even this implied approval of the Functionists feels like it corrodes Kaon’s vocaliser as it forms the sounds, and he instantly wishes he could take them back, and not just because they’re a betrayal of everything Kaon believes. Because – because Vos – <br/><br/></p><p>
  <em>Flinches. <br/><br/></em>
</p><p>Like, he full-on rocks back in place, as though Kaon has struck him physically.<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon has never seen a reaction from Vos like that. Not in all two million years of their acquaintance. <br/><br/></p><p>(He never wants to witness it again.)<br/><br/></p><p>“…The test was flawed,” Vos says, finally, like that’s not been commonly accepted fact amongst the Decepticons for the entire fragging war. “It was known even at the time. But – small steps. Incremental changes. It would have evolved to encompass more.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Yeah?” Kaon taunts, not knowing why Vos is reacting so much to this one point but entirely willing to shove his metaphorical fingers into the sudden crack in Vos’ façade and widen it. He suddenly feels like he’s made tangible progress, after over thirty-one days of Vos mostly stonewalling him. “How do you figure? It was controversial even then – if it grew to actually threaten the status quo, you know they’d have just disappeared its creator. Don’t tell me you think they wouldn’t have.”<br/><br/></p><p>Vos doesn’t answer. He just leaves.<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon’s laugh echoes after him.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>–<br/><br/><br/><br/></p><p>
  <em>[… <br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Your room.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* The D.J.D. base of operations on Messatine.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Vos: “But why would I?”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* You: “What do you mean?”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Vos turns towards you.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Vos: “Look at you. Look at <strong>me</strong>. Did you really think I could love you? A made-to-order monster? You must be <strong>joking</strong>.”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* He laughs.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* You: “Then why did you promise? You – you made promises.”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* You feel despair. You feel hurt. You want answers.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Vos: “Ha! I’m an Autobot. You’re a Decepticon. It could never be. You were just my sweet little toy while I was far from home. I can’t believe you actually <strong>believed</strong>.”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* You feel like a fool.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* You: “But for<strong> two million years</strong> – ?”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* The weight of history is heavy.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Vos: “Aw, little <strong>Amp.</strong> Did I hurt your <strong>feelings?</strong> I didn’t think Decepticons <strong>had</strong> those.”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* You bare your teeth at Vos.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* It is easier to snarl than to cry.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* You: “That’s not my name. I’m <strong>Kaon.</strong>”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Vos: “Yes, I suppose you are. Kaon. An act. A part. A character. Not a real person. You want so much to be real, but that wish is futile. There is no grand new world order just around the corner. No Decepticon victory. Just <strong>us</strong>, alone, surrounded by the ruins of everything we ever wanted. Corpses and rust.”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* You: “I don’t want this.”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Vos’ EM field emits sadness-pity-condescension.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* You feel it shudder across your hair-trigger sensors.<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>* Vos: “Too late. It’s already here.”<br/><br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>…] <br/><br/><br/></em>
</p><p>Kaon wakes up screaming.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>–<br/><br/><br/></p><p>“I wouldn’t have passed the Test,” Vos says one day, “and neither would my brother.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Your brother?” Kaon asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t know the name of Vos’ original identity, let alone any details that were attached to it.<br/><br/></p><p>Vos hums an agreement. “We’re both turbo-foxes, once you strip away the load-bearer frame. He’s – well. He wouldn’t like you. I don’t think you’d like him.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Not a lot of people like me,” Kaon says, and it’s a truth so entrenched in him it doesn’t even raise the bitterness anymore. He wonders what Vos’ brother is like, other than disapproving of a professional torturer. Speaking of… “Does he even like you anymore? Since you’re a monster, just like the rest of us?”<br/><br/></p><p>“I think he thinks I’m dead,” Vos answers, “though I suspect that when the truth comes out he’ll be… unhappy.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Left him behind in the dark, did you?” Kaon asks, slotting this information into the image he’s trying to build of what he’s quietly calling <em>the true Vos.</em> Over two million years of data, thrown into total question when the reveal happened. Kaon <em>likes</em> his data, it’s part of why the betrayal hit him so hard; it was completely contrary to all of it. <br/><br/></p><p>“Him and my Conjunx,” Vos admits.<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon – freezes. “Your <em>Conjunx?”<br/><br/></em></p><p>“Yes,” Vos says, quiet, hurt. “I loved him so much, but – that was a different time. A different me. I don’t think he’ll want me back, if he hasn’t already moved on.”<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon laughs, bitter and mean. “You really gave up<em> everything</em>, didn’t you?” he sneers. “Tell me, <em>Vos</em>, was it <em>worth it?</em> For every mech your information helped save, there must be several that you killed. Tortured. <em>Brutalised.</em> You can do a simple profit/loss calculation, right? I did, in the aftermath. And you know what I found? All of your pain, everything you sacrificed, it gained you <em>nothing.</em> You’re running a net loss, <em>spy.</em> I hope you’re proud of yourself.”<br/><br/></p><p>Vos trembles in place, Kaon can sense the vibrations through the air. <br/><br/></p><p>“You’re wrong,” Vos whispers. “What I did – it was <em>worth it.”<br/><br/></em></p><p>“Was it really?” Kaon taunts, finding that stable ground again, digging in. “Or are you just telling yourself that to justify giving up everything and having nothing to show for your <em>loyalty?”<br/><br/></em></p><p>“What do you have?” Vos asks him, suddenly calm, calculating.<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon pauses, brought up short. “What do<em> I</em> have?” he asks.<br/><br/></p><p>“Imagine this:” Vos says, “the Decepticons win the war. All violence is banned, as per Megatron’s<em> Towards Peace</em>. Everyone is worth the same, get the same resources, gets equal value. But differences are punished. Differences in how mecha act, how they argue, how they fight, how they walk or talk or work. <em>Peace Through Tyranny,</em> yes? Strange how it sounds exactly like what the Functionists wanted.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Shut up,” Kaon snarls.<br/><br/></p><p>“So where do the D.J.D. fit in all this?” Vos continues, relentless. “Oh, sure, you’ll be needed at the start, to continue your work as Megatron’s enforcers. But, oh, once the new order spreads, expands, begins to hold itself up… where does that leave <em>you?”<br/><br/></em></p><p><em>“Shut up!”</em> Kaon shouts.<br/><br/></p><p>“Nowhere,” Vos whispers. “It leaves you with nowhere to go, no place to run. You’re the embodiment of Megatron’s violence, but when he no longer needs you, what happens then? You’ll be the last sacrifices on the altar, urging in the new age. Dead, for your service.”<br/><br/></p><p>“I hate you!” Kaon shrieks, unable to articulate anything else. Vos’ words beat like a war drum through his processor.<br/><br/></p><p>“Yield to me,” Vos says, gently. “Defect. Have a future that isn’t death.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Go away,” Kaon says, hoarse. “Just – go <em>away.”<br/><br/></em></p><p>Kaon slumps back down, not remembering when he’d stood. When his sensors ping again, Vos is gone.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>–<br/><br/><br/></p><p>The days slip past. Kaon’s internal chronometer ticks up, thirty-nine days, forty-seven days, sixty-three days, longer. He registers when they dock at spaceports, though he isn’t allowed out, how long they stay, the time between Vos’ visits.<br/> </p><p>His dreams continue, leaving him restless and jumpy. Vos doesn’t need to torture him physically; captivity and rapport are enough to strongly influence a person into changing their path in life. He hates that he clings on to him, that he still holds Vos’ words so precious in his spark.<br/><br/></p><p>(He hates that he <em>missed him.</em> The Pet had been right there, but Vos had never been further away.)<br/><br/></p><p>Kaon <em>knows</em> this, he knows it and it still works. Their long history works against him, as does Vos engaging him in debates until Kaon admits that he has a valid point on whatever they’re arguing about. Debates are one of the best ways to start a behavioural shift, because it gets the other to <em>engage</em>. Not indoctrination, exactly, but – Kaon knows what Vos is doing.<br/> </p><p>Knows that he’s<em> losing.</em> As if <em>losing</em> will actually lose him anything. As if he wouldn’t <em>gain</em> from giving in.<br/><br/></p><p>At day number eighty-six, he finally, defeatedly, tells Vos, “You win.”<br/><br/><br/></p><p>–<br/><br/><br/></p><p>“My name is Dominus Ambus,” Vos tells him, later.<br/> </p><p>“Haven’t heard that name in a while,” Amp says. Primus, it’s a famous name. Politician, scientist, philosopher, explorer… “Wait – the Ambus Test. The one you wouldn’t pass.”<br/><br/></p><p>Dominus nods. “Incremental changes,” he murmurs. “But – I see now that it wouldn’t truly have worked. Perhaps this war really was inevitable. Trying to fix the problem from the inside was a fool’s hope, it was far too corrupted.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Careful,” Amp says, stroking the plating of Dominus’ arm as he lies next to him, “that doesn’t sound very Autobot-like.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Megatron waged war for good reason,” Dominus says, “but his way has been lost, and his vision was just another method of oppression. Even if he wins, all that’s going to happen is another set of revolutionaries will eventually rise, and the cycle starts again. We have to do <em>better,</em> not repeat old mistakes.”<br/><br/></p><p>“I hear you,” Amp sighs. “I just wish – no. How long ‘til we reach Earth?”<br/><br/></p><p>“Another four days,” Dominus says. “Prowl’s down there; I report directly to him. I’ll speak in support of your defection.”<br/><br/></p><p>Amp considers the large amounts of intel he has, though some is surely no longer valid. “I’m not a good person,” he says. “I’m – I was Kaon for most of my functioning. I was <em>made</em> to be a monster. I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this.”<br/><br/></p><p>“You will be,” Dominus assures. “It’s just a learning curve you have to get over. Besides, you weren’t made to be a monster; you were made for<em> me.</em> I shaped you then and I’ll shape you now, have faith in me.”<br/><br/></p><p>“I do,” Amp says. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so, according to the IDW timeline, Dominus was caught in 2009 and The Pet (and the rest of the D.J.D.) died in 2016. The Vos we're most familiar with (Mr. Wear My Face) was only there for 7 years~. The war ended in 2011, and this story is set in the same year, hence why they're going to Earth and not Cybertron.</p><p>We don't know much about Kaon's canonical backstory. His real name - Amp - was revealed on Twitter. I went with the idea that him being an actual electric chair might be indicative of an M.T.O. torturer, made specifically for the D.J.D. Dominus, likewise, doesn't get a lot of canon dates. We know he disappeared into Autobot spec ops near the start of the war, long enough ago that his own spark brother is convinced he's dead, and that his version of Vos was very well-known, and that's it.</p><p>There is also literally no way that Dominus is unaffected by his time as Vos. Like, it's actually impossible. He hunted and tortured and spouted the rhetoric for potentially millions of years. His moral compass was always going to come out the other side a bit broken.</p><p>You can interpret Kaon and Dominus' relationship any way you want. I left it ambiguous for a reason.</p><p>The title is from this song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RsM_OnH8z6Q">here.</a></p><p>I can also be found on <a href="https://stairre.tumblr.com/">tumblr.</a> Come and say hello!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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